The Girl On Tracks
by TheNewMissNoOne
Summary: To him, she was never the girl in black. It was generic to think of her that way. She was simply just the Girl on Tracks.


_I took a break from my writing rush yesterday but I'm back today with a new one shot. This one is full of angst, but I hope you'll like it._

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**The Girl On Tracks**

It was very rare to find an abandoned train track in a place like Lima, Ohio. And it wasn't everyday that that abandoned train track gets visited. Hardly anyone even knew it existed. It nestled on the edge of the town, lying there peacefully. A single girl, however, visits this train track, almost every day at the mere age of sixteen. She was a girl in black. She, too, was a very rare individual in the town. Though she thought of herself less of an individual and more like a stooge. During her days of grief, when all she longed for was the right kind of pain, the abandoned train track was always more than willing to welcome her. Lying down in the middle of the track, it gave her hope that someday, her life would be just as peaceful as the abandoned train track, hoping that if she lay down long enough, she'd become one with it. And then everybody would leave her alone.

She would sometimes bring a valuable item with her such as a book, a cigarette stick, or her phone. Being held in her hands, they still had no use. She never reads the book, she never smokes the cigarette, and she never communicates with anyone. Just the mere thought that she had her hands full of something that could never hurt her would make her life a little more bearable. She was girl in black, not only wearing black, but also living in black and she knew it.

Lying down on the silent tracks, she'd give in to the feeling of rhapsody. She wanted to be away—far, far away. She'd look up at the skies and pretend—pretend that sky blue was all there is to it. No pain, no trust, no grief—just the fine blue sky and its seemingly wonderful aura. But the girl in black knew full well that nothing is wonderful in her life. It was like a never ending, monotonous storybook. That is, until _he_ came along...

He was called the Boy on Wheels. The paraplegia never seemed to bother him. Pride and optimism seeped through his pores. He tried to reach out to the girl in black. She refused, but he tried harder. She wasn't sure why, because no one really seemed to care for her. To her, the boy on wheels is being masochistic. To him, she was being diffident. But to all the others, she was being hostile. A minority—that's all she was. No true friends and no omnipresent parents. She walked on the tracks alone. It was her sacred palace—a place where she can let go, be free to cry and express herself without being judged. The sight of the silent tracks, the pebbles underneath, and the pale green grass that surrounded it was a place that seemed like heaven to her. She dared not share it with anyone.

The boy on wheels never gave up, and soon she gave in. And she found that she didn't actually regret it. His optimism was enough to dull her sorrow for a while, but only when he was near her. Once he rolls away, the pain comes barging into her again. And she would find herself paying the tracks a visit once again.

Over the years, as the girl in black and the boy on wheels grew closer, her visits to the tracks became less and less frequent. It was as if he gave her a sixth sense she's never felt before—and that was the sense of being present. For the first time ever, she wasn't an empty shell, just walking around the school halls as if she were a ghost. She was present enough to know that someone would be there to make her feel visible. That someone would need her. That, for the first time ever, someone cares for her. And it was a great feeling.

Glee club helped, too. She had a chance to have more real friends outside of her tight circle. She got to express herself. However, it wasn't all that good. Glee club is the time when she puts up her positive facade the longest. It was hard, trying to make sure that no one saw right through her. Masking her feelings felt natural after years of practicing in front of the mirror. The tracks were the only ones that are able to bring out her deepest core. Not even to herself could she be truthful.

So when she found herself hopelessly in love with the boy on wheels, it was all new to her—the way her heart beat races when she sees him, the way her eyes perk up, the way she involuntarily smiles a genuine smile whenever they talk, and the way the butterflies would come surging to her stomach whenever he touched her... she didn't know what to do. He seemed oblivious to her feelings, but she was still content with just having him around.

When the day came that he told her how his accident happened, she immediately felt guilty. He had been truthful to her, yet she still kept a ton of secrets from him. She wanted to tell him all—how her parents never really acknowledge her and how she faked her stutter just to get their attention, the feeling of loneliness and emptiness, and the fact that she pours out her whole life to an abandoned train track that no one really knew existed except for her. He asked her out, and she agreed. And for the first time ever, she had fun. Sure her other memories were also fun, but they were the kinds that only lasted for a few seconds and then they vanished. This memory, however, the one with the boy on wheels, was extra special to her. So special that she chose to reveal her secret.

Starting with her stutter, she watched as his jaw dropped, and his eyes looked darker than before. His face twisted with fury as he left her there, alone in the hallway. And once again, she remembered what it was like to truly be left alone.

That afternoon, she went back to the abandoned train tracks. Not being there for three months, she had begun to really miss it. Without much hesitation, she landed on her knees, laid down on the tracks, and held her arms tightly around herself as she cried. That afternoon, she had brought something special with her—her iPod. She listened to some music for a while, occasionally bursting into tears, but in the end, music was one of the few things that never made her feel so alone. Having two of them at the same time, she felt like she was at home. Sighing heavily and blinking away the last of her tears, she felt herself slipping away... away from the dreaded place they call Earth and into this far away land she had always dreamed of getting to... she was going... going... she was gone...

And at last, the girl in black was at peace.

She hugged her knees to her chest and realized that she had been lying there, dreaming of her favorite place for five hours—a new record. She had no intentions of getting up, but she knew that sooner or later, she had to. She breathed in a long, jagged breath. The memories flooded back and she wanted to cry again. Her hands clutched her iPod tighter. They then slid down to hold on to the wooden tracks underneath her, as if they were some kind of lifeline she was to hold on to if she wanted to remain in the spot. Dozing off, the last of her thoughts that came to her was that there are no such things as happy memories. They were all fake memories plastered to you to fill the emptiness inside, leaving you as soon as one sliver of hopelessness comes and greets you.

This went on for a few weeks, her visits averaging from three or four times a week to every day and to two or three times a day. She didn't mind skipping class for that brief comfort. Heck, she'd give up anything for it. Winning Sectionals was just another fake memory. She got to put on a smile and the competitive facade, but, as always, inside she was breaking. None of the others knew about it. The boy on wheels continued to ignore her. And life goes on.

Unbeknownst to her, the boy on wheels knew something was wrong. He decided to make up with her, let by gones be by gones. She hesitated. It was such a big feat for her. She just couldn't handle that much pain again. But seeing his eyes glimmer in hope, it gave her a sense of calm... and that also felt like home. She agreed. But then he told her to lose the goth look. That took her aback. Her goth look meant something much more to her than what meets the eye. It gave her a sense of security, like nothing can harm her. She was extremely offended, but she loved the feeling he gave her. She didn't want to lose him. And so the girl in black was not the girl in black anymore.

She didn't like it. It just wasn't the same. She sometimes saw a sliver of guilt in his eyes, but decided that she was just imagining it. But then, being in the tracks didn't feel the same anymore. It was as if the tracks only accepted the girl in black, and she was not the girl in black anymore.

It became too much for her to bear that she soon put her foot down and stood up for herself, not only for herself, but also for her tracks. Spraying him with facts of strong femininity and confidence and rights to be who you want to be, he felt like he had been slapped. He had stared at her as if she were an angel statue that suddenly began to fly. The look on his face was unbearable. And that night on the tracks, she was once again the girl in black, weeping for the lost of the boy on wheels, clutching the iPod to her chest with all the strength she could muster.

But he apologized and admitted he was wrong. He said he would go down on one knee if he could. She was confused at first, but then she understood. She understood why she felt the strange sensations when around him, why she'd spent countless hours on dirty train tracks crying for him, and why she felt these oddities that always seemed to calm her. It was all clear to her now. The boy on wheels_ loved _her. And she couldn't have been any happier.

That night, she went back to the train tracks, bringing something valuable with her. She brought the Boy on Wheels with her. And as she explained to him her deepest secret, his ears perked up and he listened carefully to each word she said. And when he saw her there, feeling so much at ease, he smiled at the angel lying down on tracks.

To him, she was never the girl in black. It was generic to think of her that way. She was simply just the Girl on Tracks.

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**Thank you for reading and don't forget to leave a review! :)**


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